


Violent and Vulgar Verses of Men 'n' Boys

by SickRose



Category: Original Work, The Lady of Shalott - Alfred Lord Tennyson
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad Ending, Bad Jokes, Bad Poetry, Bad Puns, Bareback on Horseback, Beating, Choirboy, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Did I Mention, Dry Sex, Extremely Underage, Foxboy, Gay Sex, Infanticide, M/M, Murder, Necrophilia, Nepiphilia, Parent/Child Incest, Parody, Pedophilia, Poetry, Public Sex, Puns & Word Play, Riding While Riding, Sadism, Sexual Humor, Size Kink, Snuff, and, and for the little boys a very, not the kind you snort, pissing inside, specifically, ventfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:26:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SickRose/pseuds/SickRose
Summary: What the title says. It's a pun. By the way. I hate my life.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Started off trying my hand at dirty rhymes, just to see if I could, then it turned into whatever the hell this is. Posting it here because idk. Warning: very, very, VERY bad (in all senses) poetry ahead. You have been warned.

There came along a country hick

Who had a dick so long and thick

He used it as a walking stick.

Young Tommy Quick

Gave it a lick

And was promptly sick.

The man did not care

He came in his hair

And afterwards killed the boy with a kick.


	2. Chapter 2

Bill's prong is too long for bint's bits,

So boys and men must keep their wits.

Noddy Nitts, his teeth he grits

While Bill drills to see if it fits.

Noddy quakes; his body shakes.

But Billy's pole

Goes into the hole

And Noddy clean in two he splits.


	3. Chapter 3

The boy and the man

Walked down the road.

The man rubbed his prick

And shot out a load.

A bird flying by

Was knocked from the sky.

The boy gave a cry

'What a way to die!'

'Would you like to try?',

Asked the man,

With a gleam in his eye.


	4. Chapter 4

The tall man dropped his trousers down

And made the small boy's eyes go round.

'Fuck _me_!' said the kid.

'I will', said the man

And did.

'Shut up', said the man

When the small boy cried.

The small boy did

and died.


	5. Chapter 5

A naughty boy-whore  
was put in detention.  
The teacher thought cure  
More fun than prevention:  
Opened his fly,  
Revealed his intention,  
Thrust in with a sigh,  
Neglected to mention  
His cum was corrosive.  
The beginning was fine  
And the middle sublime  
But the climax was rather explosive.  
When he was done  
He sat in the sun.  
The boy he did pound  
Could nowhere be found  
Except for the pieces that spattered the ground.


	6. Chapter 6

A father dreamed  
His son he reamed--  
The faster he reamed, the more the boy screamed;  
The more the boy screamed, the more the man creamed;  
The tiny tot's seat his spindle unseamed;  
A peppermint swirl down his candycane streamed--  
The father awoke  
And saw with a choke  
His nocturnal emission  
Was not what it seemed.


	7. Chapter 7

A newborn boy  
Was dropped on his head.  
The father used his ass instead.  
Cried the nurse on the wing,  
'You'll hurt the poor thing!'  
'I can't', said the man. 'He's dead.'


	8. The Fox Cunt

A duke rode out one morn on a hunt  
In search of a plumptious juicy cunt.  
He saw a man, a maid, a mare;  
He tossed his tawny head of hair--  
They were not what he wanted at all.  
Then his eye on a boy did fall.  
The boy was dainty, with skin like snow,  
With a face like a cherub and buttocks like dough,  
With little fox ears and a coppery brush--  
The lusty lord came on with a rush.  
Before the pup could start to worry  
The Duke had already seized his quarry.  
The wee thing started to call for its mother,  
Then stopped, for the Duke had already shot her.  
The Duke sat his saddle, the fox in his lap  
The horses' hooves went clippety-clap.  
He settled the fox with its feet on his thighs.  
His prick, when released, came up to its eyes.  
The tiny kit mewed and shivered with fear,  
Fixed on the cock with a cross-eyed stare.  
Its cornhole quivered in anticipation--  
Its innards were in for a huge renovation!  
They key was placed in the too-small door--  
He'd fill to the brim, then fill some more.  
His prong it was long and the pup it was small--  
But Christ! It was going to take it all!  
His cock it was thick and the cub it was thin--  
But somehow the whole damned thing went in!  
His hips pushed up and his hands pulled down;  
He galloped the whole ten miles to town,  
And every new mile brought new heights of rapture--  
For the man, that is, who was pleased with his capture.  
In town the Duke made a fine display  
For all the boys and the burghers gay.  
He stood in the stirrups to show off his prize  
And made the men gasp in delighted surprise.  
They gaped at the stretch of the kit's tattered hole,  
Red rosy ring round a stout maypole.  
Each dame clutched her pearls and each dom his prick;  
For quite different reasons they both felt sick--  
Their wives with disgust and they with desire  
For the sweet fox-cub with the fur like fire.  
Yet none do deny, for indeed none can,  
That the boy-like beast and the beast-like man  
Are as pleasing a pair as had ever been seen  
Riding the road by the blossoming green  
The Duke was as big as the fox was little;  
He was as sturdy as it was brittle;  
The fox was soft as the Duke was rugged--  
Quite the prettiest thing he'd buggered.  
Its eyes were empty and mouth hung agape,  
Body and brain both broken by rape,  
Yet its cunt still clenched like a snug silk purse--  
The tightness and heat made the good duke curse  
He wished he was doubled just to make the pain worse!  
The foxboy by now was swollen with cum  
A skintight balloon with a white-bleeding bum.  
Its limbs flopped limp as a woman in bed;  
He could throttle its throat round his still-gushing head,  
Yet somehow, someway, the fox was not dead!  
The Duke turned about and started for home,  
His fawn riding breeches now sopping with foam.  
His steed he let rest, but his prey he did not  
As he travelled the rolling hill-road at a trot.  
'Tween town and estate he got in a few rounds  
And what was left over he threw to the hounds.  
While the hounds (and the houndsman) took their brute pleasure,  
The Duke stood close by and wanked at his leisure  
And when mutt and master had tired of their play  
He seeded the scraps, and then heard them say  
'Please, good sir, won't you please let me go?'  
The Duke was astonished--but straightway said 'No!'  
That sweet little voice kept his cock red and ruddy;  
The fox-hole still beckoned, though gaping and bloody.  
The Duke grabbed the fox by the scruff of its neck;  
He tossed it inside like a bundle of dreck:  
Unbuckled his belt, unbelted his britches;  
Battered and belted till the boy needed stiches.  
Raped the boy roughly for old time's sake;  
Yanked at its tail and gave it a shake.  
Squeezed out the cum and filled it with piss  
And said, 'Now thank my cock with a kiss.'  
Choked the boy slowly but half to death,  
Boot on its throat to stamp out the breath.  
Knocked out its teeth with a branding iron;  
Came down its throat and roared like a lion.  
Flogged it and fucked it and beat it blue and black--  
Had it stuffed and mounted on a trophy rack!


	9. The Smith and the Duke's Son

A blacksmith born to a prostitute mother  
Took the Duke's wee son as a lover.  
His prick was large, the size of a barge;  
He used to ease his way with marge.  
To be dicked so deep with a spread so cheap--  
It made the little lordling weep.  
The smith, a man both meek and mild  
Swiftly appeased the patrician child:  
In future, said he, with a kindly grin  
He'd use sheer force to get his cock in.  
And sure enough, he kept his word:  
The little boy's pleas all went unheard .  
The smith he was an honest man,  
Outpaced the boy wherever he ran,  
No matter how the tart did struggle  
Or butter him up with a cosy snuggle,  
His solemn oath did not forget,  
Never again to get his prick wet,  
But rammed it in as dry as a bone  
Which made the lordling wail and moan.  
The sight of blood, it swayed him not;  
In fact, he found it rather hot.  
The smith went at it hammer and dong,  
And raped the boy both deep and long.  
The trusty smith did not recant--  
No matter how the bitch did pant  
No matter how the brat did squall,  
rather than marge, he used nothing at all.


	10. The Chorister of Cumalot, a Lesson

In Cumalot there was a squire  
Who sang in the cathedral choir,  
Who filled with envy all the girls  
For his pearl-white skin and coal-black curls  
And as his lips moaned out the hymn  
He used to wink at all the churls--  
Till one day one winked back at him.  
And when the holy mass was done,  
And the choirboys went to have some fun--  
Mowing down midgets with a Gatling gun,  
Exposing themselves to a lesbian nun--  
Of their number he was not one.  
Not in the church, not at the school,  
Not in his bed, could be found this fool.  
But some remarked the white mill-pool  
Had ceased to churn, the wheels to turn  
And the miller mean had not been seen,  
Though from the mill came moans obscene.  
But who is this? What whore is here?  
For floating down the river, bare,  
Arse upturned to the leering sky,  
Which did not even deign to cry,  
Seeping sperm like juice from a pear,  
Came the boy. And all who there  
Saw the cummy corpse appear  
Sighed and stroked themselves for fear,  
All the knaves in Cumalot.  
And as the grassy verge they spermed  
They crossed their cocks and all affirmed  
The punishment that heaven sends:  
Slutty boys have sticky ends.


End file.
